Coming Home
by kkiiittttyyyyy
Summary: She has dreams of a girl in white and burgundy. He sees flashes of what he thinks is a past life. Perhaps it's time for them to come home. 1xR. An attempt to make sense of Frozen Teardrop, though I took my liberties with some parts of the plot.


**Title:** Coming Home

**Disclaimer:** Characters and plot from Gundam Wing aren't mine. The lyrics are from the song "Come Home" by One Republic.

**A/N:** Okay, so basically this is my first time writing for the GW fandom, though I've been a 1xR fan since I was about eleven years old. (Nine years and counting, baby!) Uh-huh, so be gentle.

Also, this fic was mainly inspired by the above-mentioned song. Just really screams 1xR to me, particularly with the advent of Frozen Teardrop.

In making this fic, I basically made a few assumptions with the story. (I've also never read FT, except for a bunch of summaries in forums.) The main assumption being that both Heero and Relena have memories of their real childhoods (yes, Heero remembers his mom and his assassin dad) BUT have been fed FAKE memories of the past ten years. Thus, no recollection of their lives leading up to Operation Meteor, Eve Wars, etc. They just kinda woke up in hospitals and were told they'd been in accidents, etc.

Oh and I assumed that in going to Mars from Earth, Heero uses his Gundam so it doesn't take as long as it should normally.

* * *

_Hello world, hope you're listening_

_Forgive me if I'm young, for speaking out of turn_

_But there's someone I've been missing_

_I think that they could be the better half of me_

_

* * *

_

_Presidential Mansion, Mars_

Relena Peacecraft gently placed the silver mask on the surface of her vanity table. Running her hand absently on the contours of the piece of metal, she gave a slight sigh before looking into the mirror with hesitant blue eyes.

For the longest time, she'd avoided looking at her reflection without the mask on. It hurt too much – and gave her a sense of trepidation whose primary source she could never seem to accurately trace, much less understand.

The eyes devoid of emotion, the faint lines beneath them – they spoke of a story she was not sure she wanted to confront. Hers was a beautiful face in spite of it all, she never doubted that. It was, in fact, _hauntingly _beautiful. Hauntingly.

It was the face she saw in her dreams, albeit without the bright, strong spirit that _that_ girl seemed to possess.

She cannot remember when exactly it started, those dreams, but when they had, not a night passed when she could escape them. Whether her day was good or bad, one spent in closed door conferences as the President of the Mars Federation or in the war room giving out orders to kill, the dreams would slip in, rendering her awake with tears streaking down her face.

Dreams of a girl in a ruffled uniform of white and burgundy, of park benches and a figure shrouded in blue sitting beside her. Sometimes, the dreams would take her to room draped in curtains and coverlets of baby pink, a small girl weeping into her pillows. There were dreams of outer space, of watching the girl in the hangar of what appeared to be a giant ship, staring at the trail left behind by a mobile suit.

So many dreams, so many places visited.

But only the girl. All she ever clearly saw was that girl – who looked so much like her that it hurt – and the figures of people around her whose faces were blurred in her mind's eye.

Sometimes, she allowed herself to dwell on the remnants of her dreams, grasping on whatever details she could retrieve and holding on with all her might. Almost as if holding on would give her answers.

It never did.

Her secretary would burst into the room, voice panicked, relating some disaster or other. Sometimes it would be one of her bodyguards, whisking her away for safety reasons.

Then her mind would blank, her heart would harden once more, and she would move into some kind of autopilot, barking orders and taking long strides to wherever she needed to be.

"Miss Peacecraft," said a voice behind her, breaking her out of her reverie. The mask on the vanity clattered to the floor, her hand accidentally pushing it over the edge as she turned around.

Relena found herself facing Quaterine Winner, brows knit, her own pale face etched with worry. "We've received a transmission from one of our spies in ESUN." Mars' most trusted fighter handed the President an information tablet, the screen glowing in the dim light of the latter's bedroom. "It concerns Operation Mythos."

Hands shaking slightly, Relena retrieved the tablet, staring down at the words on the screen. Scrolling through the information on what appeared to be plans for her assassination, her normally emotionless eyes widened in surprise.

On the screen was the image of her would-be killer, dark blue eyes partially hidden behind his dark brown locks.

In that moment of seeming contact, as her own blue eyes locked with his digital ones, Relena felt a tug at her chest.

Who was this boy?

"Heero…Lowe."

All of a sudden, she felt herself falling, the pain in her head, behind her eyes, increasing by the nanosecond.

_The girl. The girl on a strip of sand by the beach. In a classroom filled with other young bodies. Dancing in a ballroom. About to be crushed by falling debris. Standing in front of a white shuttle. Sitting behind an office desk. Walking in what looked to be a park. A forest. Staring into space. Near-crying in a hangar. Rushing towards a falling body clothed in green and denim._

Images flashed quickly before her eyes, her mind slipping into darkness seconds later.

Pain. White hot pain.

Emptiness.

* * *

_I get lost in the beauty of everything I see_

_The world ain't half as bad as they paint it to be_

_If all the sons, all the daughters, stop to take it in_

_Then hopefully the hate subsides and the love can begin_

_

* * *

_

_Preventers Headquarters, Earth_

They don't think he does, but a part of the young soldier remembers.

Slipping quietly into the common showers of the military barracks, he stared at his hands as he walked absently to one of the stalls. He allowed the hot water to glide over his hardened body, relishing the pain and pleasure brought on by the onslaught of scalding liquid.

They came in fragments, these memories, flashing through his mind before disappearing in mere seconds. He could never predict when they would come. It seemed they had no direct cause. One moment he would be tinkering on the engine of his Gundam, the next he would be grasping the sides of his head in pain. Then the images in his head would leave, the pain would stop, and he'd be back to where he was, hands mechanically functioning as they had seconds earlier.

Over the last few days, the memories had been coming more often, rushing through his mind like a tornado, leaving chaos in its trail.

They were vague and short at best.

_A hospital bed. Injections. Being inside the hangar of a mobile suit. Stepping into the gates of what appeared to be a school. A fencing match, was it? Space, deep space. Flying through the sky. A small teddy bear, left on the white cushion of a shuttle seat._

There were feelings too.

_Hatred. Anger. Fear. Shame. Satisfaction. Comfort. A tinge of…happiness?_

He doesn't understand where it all came from. A past life perhaps? Memories of a body his soul used to belong to?

Shaking his head, the young soldier gave a small laugh.

What was he thinking? Past lives didn't exist. And he certainly knew enough of his own life to know that he was nothing more than what he was at the moment. He was Preventer Special Agent Heero Lowe, codename Aurora, raised by his father Odin Lowe after the death of his mother, Aoi Clark, and his stepfather. He was trained to be a fighter at an early age, entered the Preventer Academy a few years after his real father's death. He'd been heavily injured about a year ago in a botched mission, awakening from his comma one and a half months before.

At present, he was the main agent assigned to Operation Mythos.

That's all there was to it.

Massaging the shampoo through his scalp, he reveled once more in the feeling of contentment elicited by the simple pleasure of a warm shower at the end of a long day.

Earlier, he had aided in the destruction of a small base at the edge of one of the Martian territories. But despite the blood he knew tainted his hands, the boy satisfied himself with the thought that soon this would all be over. In a few days, the Operation would commence and he would be able to live the rest of his life again. As he actually pleased.

Yes, soon. And all would be right.

Funny memories be damned. He was going to go out there and live in peace as his parents would have wanted him to.

Changing into a white shirt and fatigue pants, Heero walked to his desk, sinking into the chair in front of it. He booted up his laptop and scanned for the incoming transmission that his superior had told him to wait for.

Precise instructions on Operation Mythos.

Impatiently, he tapped his fingers on the desk, heart rate speeding up as he awaited instructions on what he hoped to be his last mission.

BEEP!

And there it was, glowing from his computer's screen.

Operation Mythos. The elimination of Mars Federation President Relena Peacecraft.

Reading through the message, his eyes settled on a photo of his victim, taken during one of her public addresses.

Blonde hair cascading down elegantly sloped shoulders. Diplomatic uniform the color of pure white. Lips the pale pink of roses. Eyes a startlingly light blue that seemed to be the extreme opposite of his own dark ones.

He could see she was beautiful, even with a silver mask obscuring most of her features.

"Relena. I'm gonna kill you," he whispered quietly, something tugging at his heart.

Ignoring it, he moved to close his laptop before a searing pain jarred into the sides of his head.

The memory, this time, was slightly different. It lasted seconds longer, the images more vivid than ever before.

_Him standing inside a mobile suit hangar. His helmeted head touching that of a girl's. Light blue eyes alight with indignation. Lips lightly glossed. Head drowning in a space helmet far too big for her slight frame._

Who was she?

When he opened his eyes, Heero found himself sprawled on the floor, breathing erratic and heart beating a mile a minute.

"Believe in me," he whispered, surprised with the words' familiarity.

The air in the room was cold – but not as cold as the feeling in his chest.

Fear.

Dread.

* * *

_Right now there's a war between the vanities_

_But all I see is you and me_

_And the fight for you is all I've ever known_

_So come home._

_

* * *

_

_Presidential Mansion, Mars_

"Agent Heero," she murmured, as she stared into the barrel of a gun. Here was the boy whose face had been imprinted in her mind since the day she learned about Operation Mythos.

"President Relena," he replied, nodding slightly. The time had come. His last kill.

Her lips quirked in a half smile as she stepped away from the door. Walking towards him, arms crossed on her chest, she stopped a mere three inches from his gun and gave a slight bow.

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

Taken slightly aback, his face contorted in confusion before resuming its determined look. Heero's grip tightened on the gun, his mind preparing itself for what his body was about to do.

"Can I make one last request then?" she told him in a quiet voice. "You seem set on killing me, after all."

Hiding his continued confusion, Heero found himself nodding as the girl before him raised her arms to grip the silver mask concealing half of her face. Removing it swiftly with her head bowed, she looked up at him with her light blue eyes, face as expressionless as it had always been.

"For some reason," she spoke, "I want to die as that girl."

"That girl?" he questioned darkly.

"I don't know who she is. But somehow, I feel she is a part of me." Clenching her fists, she allowed a look of determination to grace her soft face before continuing, "Kill me."

The next thing he knew, she had collapsed on the floor, head in her hands as she rolled over in what seemed to be a fit of pain.

He was beside her in a minute, gun dropped carelessly on the floor. At that point, she began thrashing on the floor violently and it took all his strength to pin her down under himself, body heaving in exertion.

Exhale. Inhale.

He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath.

"Hee-Heero?" she inquired, her newly opened eyes brimming with tears.

Confusion.

Recognition.

The memories flooded her mind in jumbles. That…that girl!_ That _girl.

It was _her_. Really _her_. Relena Peacecraft. Relena Peacecraft Darlian.

As the tears began to spill down her cheeks, Heero found himself crying with her.

He didn't know why. Had no _freaking_ idea _why_.

But as she continued to cry beneath him, her tears mixing with his own as they dropped onto her pale grey button down shirt, Heero Lowe realized one thing.

He _couldn't_ kill her.

Getting up with lightning speed, he grabbed his gun and ran to the balcony, jumping down to the ground below and running into the darkness of the Martian night.

The tears continued to flow but he didn't stop running. He ran and ran and ran, the blinding pain of the tears supplemented by the pain in his mind and heart.

It was _her_. The girl who had graced his "funny" memories. The girl he'd asked to believe in him.

He was finally, _really_, remembering.

"I'm…Heero Yuy. Gundam Pilot 01."

* * *

_Presidential Mansion, Mars_

"It seems," she whispered quietly, "That we never end up on the same side."

* * *

_Unidentified Mobile Suit En Route to Earth_

"Perhaps," he mumbled, "Someday."

* * *

_Everything I can't be is everything you should be_

_That's why I need you here._


End file.
